Wrong Turns
by Erandri
Summary: It all started during the Christmas Party, all because Sherlock couldn't keep his mouth shut. So Lestrade and Molly drank, and that's when the real troubles began. A walk through of DI Lestrade and Molly Hooper's relationship from A Scandal in Belgravia to the present.
1. Chapter 1

**Full Title: With all My Wrong Turns I Finally got Something Right with You **

**So I just rediscovered my love of Lestrolly, Molstrade, Mollstrade what ever you choose to call it and I decided that I had to write a fic. I had a couple of pages done when I did a read through and realized that I hated all of it. So I started over and now two hours later here we are. My first Molly/Lestrade fic. The timeline starts during the Christmas party in A Scandal in Belgravia and will go straight on to the present. There are some adult moments in this but not too much detail.**

**This is unbeta'd and written between 10.30pm and 1am so any mistakes are mine.**

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Their first time had been a mistake. He was upset about Sherlock's reveal that his wife was still cheating on him and she, despite all her smiles, was deeply hurt by Sherlock's actions. But it was a Christmas party and they wouldn't let Sherlock spoil it for them, so they each put on their brave faces and acted like everything was okay. Then the party went to hell, Sherlock left without a word, John and his girlfriend had a row and she left, then John left a short while later. After a half hour of forced conversation and two half assed excuses to leave he found himself driving Molly home. They were halfway to her apartment when she got a text from Sherlock. He got an instant urge to punch the man for ruining her night twice now but she insisted that it was important work. So he turned around and drove her to Barts. She told him thank you so much for the ride and to feel free to head home, but he waited.

He was just starting to hum along to the radio, Hot for Teacher had come on and he never could resist singing along to it, when he saw Molly come out the hospital door. She had changed, her dress was slung over her arm and her heels were dangling from her gloved hand. She had also let her hair down, though some of the curl from earlier remained. She stopped short for a second when she saw him before making her way to his window. He turned down the radio and rolled down the window just as she approached.

"You waited?" she asked almost in disbelief.

"Well of course I waited," _Had there ever been another option?_ "Get in, you'll freeze standing out there."

She obliged and ran around the car, quickly getting in and tossing her things behind her onto the back seat.

"Thank you," she said not meeting his gaze.

"No problem."

It didn't take long after that to realize that something was wrong. She was staring out the window and hadn't made a sound since they left the hospital parking lot. He could see a slump in her shoulders that wasn't there before and she was sighing far too often for it to be okay. Once again he got the urge to punch Sherlock, because who else could have made her act like that?

"So what's wrong then?" She says nothing's wrong but she's a terrible liar. He doesn't push and after a few seconds she comes clean, "Do you think that Sherlock's ever had a girlfriend?" He scoffs at the idea but quickly stifles it when he realizes that she's being serious, "It's just that. The body tonight, Sherlock knew her but...not by her face."

He doesn't know what to say to that to make her feel better so they drive on in silence. They finally reach her road and he realizes that he knows it, there's a deli down the road that he frequents and just this side of it is a pub. He drives past her building and when she points it out he simply responds that he knows. The pub is called O'Malley's and thankfully the lights are on. Parking the car across the street he jumps out and opens up the door for Molly.

"What are we doing here?"

"We are here because we have both been victims of Sherlock Holmes this night and I refuse to let that man completely ruin my evening. SoI can take you back home or we can go into that pub and drink and complain about what a prat Sherlock is and have a good night. I may even make you dance with me."

He holds out his hand for her and begins to worry that she will refuse. She is hesitant but eventually takes it. When they get into the pub it's smaller than he realized and there's a decent crowd already in there. They try to get away from those who are partying and head towards the back where there are others trying to drink the night away because of sorrow and not fun. There's one table open and they grab it.

"What do you want to drink?" He asks, standing close to her because the partiers have begun to sing. He can smell her perfume when she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and leans in to answer with 'something strong'.

"Tequila?"

"Perfect."

He comes back with two glasses and a bottle.

The conversation starts off reserved. How is work going? Any good cases? How is so-and-so? But the more they drink the more they open up. Soon they are complaining about Sherlock and how completely insensitive he is, she tears up a few times recounting some of the things that he has said to her but refuses to let the tears fall. He shares some of his own stories of being undermined by Sherlock and he can tell that she feels better knowing that it's not only her that gets it from him. They get off on a new topic, one he can't quite remember, but he's swearing a lot and he knows he should stop, clean up his language for her but she's laughing and it's such a beautiful sight that he keeps ranting about whatever it is, some TV show he thinks. When she finally get's her laughter under control there's a new light in her eyes and there are tears brimming. At first he is concerned that he said something wrong but it slowly occurs to him that these are tears of mirth. They drink more and her face starts to get red from the alcohol, he knows that he must not be looking much better but neither of them can bring themselves to care. She grabs his hand and smiles and he can feel a heat in his cheeks that isn't from the tequila. Just then the party in the front turns on some music, it's AC/DC and it's one of his favorites. He takes her hand and leads her to the nearest empty floor space and starts to twirl her around. It's clumsy and awkward and he's sure that he stepped on her toes but they're laughing too much to take much notice.

The next time he spins her she bumps into a table and spills someones drink. The bartender cuts them off then and offers to call a cab. Molly explains that she lives just down the road and they grab their coats. It takes him three tries to get his arm into the sleeve and he sees that she has given up trying to put her jacket on properly, deciding instead to drape it over her shoulders and hold it closed. They stumble down the road towards her apartment and when they dart across the road it's as if their lives depend on it. It takes them a minute to regain their breath from laughing, he can feel in it his sides and it occurs that he has never laughed as much as tonight. Once they get up the stairs to her door she fumbles to find the key and get it in the lock. She gets the door open a crack and turns to face him and when did she get so close? They're nearly touching and if he wanted to he could lean down and kiss her.

_Kiss her? Where did that thought come from she's a colleague, she's a friend, she's...beautiful._ It takes him a second to realize that she's saying thank you but he can't concentrate on that. All he can see is the red of her lips and suddenly there's an intense desire to know what they taste like. He's in no state to stop himself and the next thing he knows he's kissing her, and she's not pushing him away. He pulls away and starts to apologize, the taste of tequila and cherry on his lips, but she grabs his coat collar and is pulling him back for more.

They push their way inside and stumble upstairs to the second floor where she once again struggles to unlock the door. Once they're inside the floodgates open. They're tearing off each others clothing and crashing into everything as she leads him to the back of the apartment where her room must be. She just got his suit jacket off when they bump into a table and he's almost certain he hears a lamp break. They bump into at least three more things and by the time they make it to the bed and they're already half-dressed, a line of scattered clothes marking their haphazard trail.

It's clumsy and they barely remember a condom but it feels so good to have her next to him. They way her fingers trail down his back leave a wave of heat down his spine. His hands rove over her body and she's even more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. His muscles start to tremble as he supports himself above her but she kisses him with such a fire that he forgets about everything else but her. When it's over it's too soon but they're both too tired and still too drunk to protest sleep.

It's the sun that wakes him, coming in through the window and shining right in his eyes. He grumbles and buries his head into the pillow until he realizes that it's pink. Which is absolutely not the color of his own pillows. Wide awake now he can still taste the tequila from last night and smell cherries. Flashes of the night before flood his mind, the awful party, going to the hospital, going to the pub, drinking, dancing and..._oh_. He can feel the shame wash over him, not because it happened but how and when it happened. Suddenly he's all too aware of the wedding ring on his finger, hot and weighing him down. Molly sighs beside him and pulls the blankets tighter around her.

Grateful that she's still asleep he tries desperately not to make a noise as he gets out of bed and pulls pants on. He's just got his trousers on when she wakes. She groans and rubs her head before stopping and he knows that she's realizing what he just did moments before. She bolts up but instantly regrets it when her head starts to pound.

"Detective."

"I think we're way past being formal with each other Molly," he's trying to make light of the situation. Trying desperately not to dwell on the fact that he just cheated on his wife of twelve years. Trying to not think that he took advantage of Molly who was drunk and hurt.

"Greg-" She doesn't know what to say. Neither of them do, so she stares at her hands and he stares at her. He doesn't know how much time has passed when his mobile rings and he thanks every higher power there is that it's Scotland Yard and not his wife.

"I should..."

"Yeah, yeah go ahead."

She still doesn't meet his eyes so he steps out of the room and takes the call. It turns out it's not anything pressing, just Sally asking about some clerical things before he heads off for a long weekend. By the time he hangs up he can hear the water running in the other room so he finishes getting dressed and leaves.

He's late to Dorset but only by a half hour so he blames it on the traffic. He tries to act like everything is okay but he sees the way that Elaine is acting around the hotel's manager and he just can't take it anymore. He confronts her just before dinner and they yell so loud that the manager comes to check on them and tell them that they've had complaints. When he leaves they calm down a bit but the fight is far from over. He admits that he slept with someone else, though he doesn't say who. She throws the clock at him and he just dodges it. It crashes into the wall behind him and lands on the floor, cracked open, it's display dead. Neither of them move until he slides his ring off and places in on the end of the bed and leaves. He pays for the room and leaves a large tip for the disturbance.

For a while he just sits in his car, too depressed to drive off but feeling like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders. He swears when he remembers how he left things that morning and pulls out his mobile to call Molly. He almost hits dial a dozen times before he realizes the he doesn't know what to say to her so he sends her a text instead.

_I'm sorry, last night was a mistake._

He almost puts his phone away when one more thought comes to him.

_But for the record, I don't regret it._

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**So what did you think? I had originally planned on making this a one shot but then I wrote four pages on one encounter so this is going to be a chapter story now. I already have the next chapter thought out so I hope to get something up soon! As always reviews of any kind are appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Two chapters in two days, I'm on a roll!**** Hopefully I can keep this pace up but I seem to have a bad track record with that.** This wasn't the chapter that I originally wanted to write but it still fits in nicely.

**I had originally wanted to keep this all in Lestrade's point of view but somehow Molly managed to slip in there, so now i'll be alternating back and forth.**

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The next time they run into each other, they actually run into each other. He had gotten back from Dorset the same day that he arrived and went immediately home. The house was exactly as he had left it but it felt emptier in a way. Everything was put away exactly in its place, blankets folded pristinely over the backs of couches, photos hung on the wall spaced exactly the same distance. Everything was spotless and only just now did he realize that this may have been their house, but it had never been their home. This was simply a place where two people lived together and nothing more, maybe it had always been like that and he had just chosen to ignore that too. He slept on the couch that night.

The next morning he decided to go into work. He wasn't scheduled but paperwork had been piling up on his desk and he couldn't stand to be alone in the house any longer. He packed up his laptop and some files that he had taken home earlier that week and was placing them in the back seat when he saw Molly's clothes. Her shoes and dress lay thrown across the back seat of his car and he felt his face get hot when he thought once again to that night. He ran inside quickly and grabbed a paper bag to keep her things in until he could return them.

It was just after 10 and the hospital was silent. Only a few nurses and the security guards remained awake beside herself. She had returned early from her time with her family, even she had her limits and you can be asked 'so when are you going to meet a nice boy and settle down' or 'when are you going to quit that horrid job in the morgue for something nicer' so many times. She had successfully evaded any questions pertaining to her relationship but the more her family asked the more she could feel herself blush at the memory of her and Greg. It wasn't that it was bad, in fact considering everything it had been one of the better Christmas memories of her adult life. It was just that, well, he was married. His wife was a serial cheater and he was obviously unhappy but that was no excuse. So when she could take no more interrogation she faked a call from the hospital and said that she needed to come in for an emergency.

The silence of the morgue was comforting. Most people thought that it was creepy down here but she didn't mind it. Down here in the quiet she could breath, there was no one judging her or making fun of her for something she said and there was certainly no one to tell her that she should get a better job, go back to school and become a 'real doctor'. It was just her and her work, work that she could lose herself in making a difference, not a big difference, but a difference nonetheless. When she arrived there were two new bodies waiting that the other examiner had had time to log in but not examine. She pulled one out of storage, a pretty female about her age, and started doing what she does best.

Normally when she works she has no problem concentrating but tonight her mind kept wandering. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about Greg, replaying everything that had happened between them. The car ride, the pub, the sex. She had never thought of him in a romantic way before, she had marked that as strictly taboo. He had always just been Detective Inspector Lestrade, he had always been nice to her and they had always gotten on well enough but there had never been anything other than friendship between them. There had never been an opportunity. She hadn't missed the way that he looked at her in the dress, it had made her feel good but at the time she kept wishing that it was Sherlock who was doing the gawking. As they got to know each other more over the drinks she began to realize that he was a good man as well as a nice one. He put so much into his work for such a little return and the same was true for his marriage. It seemed that he was always willing to give a hundred percent of himself when the world was only prepared to give him ten. She recognized a lot of herself in him, they each wanted so much for themselves only to get stepped on. The sadness in his eyes was one that she saw every day in the mirror. Maybe that was why they had been draw to each other, why they found comfort in each others arms after being dealt a harsh blow. The way that he had kissed her was passionate but also needy, wanting of some form of real emotion in return. The first kiss had been hesitant but after that they both had leapt into the fire and there was no holding back, it was all desire and passion. At the memory of how he kissed her just below her ear, trailing kisses down onto her shoulder her stomach did a flip, still able to feel the pressure from his lips, and she had to look away from the slide under the microscope and remind herself of what she was supposed to be doing.

Then there were the texts: 'Last night was a mistake'. _Well there's no contesting that! You're married and I am far from over Sherlock._ But then 'I don't regret it'. Was he just saying that so she wouldn't worry as much? Too late for that. Or could he have been sincere? _No, it was a complete mistake… one I that I would be happy to make again._ The sudden realization startled her but it was the truth, she would be more than willing to sleep with Greg Lestrade again.

_ Oh god, I'm a bad person. He's married, he cheated on his wife with me and i'm thinking about doing the whole thing over again. But there's no way that he'll let it happen again, the only reason that it happened in the first place was because we drank a bottle of tequila. Besides, if it did happen again it wouldn't be like that. Greg would do it proper, ask me to dinner and all that._ The thought of her and Greg on a proper date brought a hesitant smile to her lips and she let her mind wander to what a date with him would be like as she finished and cleaned up. It was nearly midnight when she finished.

_ We need to talk,_ she thought to herself as she made her way from the morgue to the locker room. She was just rounding the last corner when she crashed into someone. She almost fell but an arm wrapped around her and held her up before any injury could occur.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," she stammered backing away before looking up to see that it was Greg that she had run into, "Greg! I thought that you were in Dorset?"

He ran a hand through his hair and she couldn't help but notice that his wedding ring was not on his finger, "Well I was but Elaine and I… we got into a row, biggest one we've ever had, and I left."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."_  
_

He looked at the floor and put his hands into his coat pocket, "I told her about us."

"Oh!" she was shocked to hear that, though it only made sense, he wouldn't want to keep a secret like that. He would want to get it out and apologize.

"I- I didn't say your name or anything, I just told her that I slept with someone," he was running his hand through his hair again. _It must be a nervous habit of his._

"How did she take it?"

"She threw a clock at my head," there was a bit of an uncomfortable silence between them until he spoke again, "We're getting a divorce."

She felt her heart race for a second and the thought that it was her fault danced across her mind, "Because of-" she couldn't finished so she settled for pointing between the two of them.

"No! No not at all," he tried to reassure her that none of it was because of her and she let out a sigh of relief, "It's been a long time coming I think. I just realized that I was done fighting a losing battle so I left. I'm going to file the papers once the holidays are over."

"I'm glad," she said before she thought and quickly tried to recover, "It's just that, you know it wasn't healthy and all and it's not because of us, not that there is an us I just meant what happened between us and it's not a big deal, it was just sex, I mean unless you want it to be a big deal but it totally doesn't have to be I just thought that… I'm rambling." She was blushing and he had a look somewhere between absolute confusion and adoration, "So what are you doing here," she asked to quickly change the subject.

"Oh," he bent down and picked up a brown paper bag that he must have dropped when they ran into each other, "You left your things in my car, I was returning them. I didn't think that you would be here."

"Well there's only so much family you can handle, I came in to get some peace and quiet," she explained and took the bag from him.

"Okay, I uh, I better get going," he said eyeing the exit down the hall, "But um, are we okay? I mean, nothing awkward between us?"

"Not at all, back to friends, the way it was," she said but still a part of her was hoping for something more. He was halfway down the hall before she got the courage to ask him the question that had been burning on her mind all day, "Greg!" He stopped and turned to face her, the harsh hospital lights dancing off of his silver hair and making him look worn out. His long black pea coat hugged his body and she realized how attractive he was. "About the texts, did you mean it? That you don't regret it I mean."

"Of course I meant it."

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**As always reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**UPDATE: I added a few new lines of dialogue when Molly is fixing Greg's hand.**

**Three chapters in three days, this is some kind of record. This chapter is probably just as much fluff as it is actual development which I think is a really fantastic thing. My italicization of thoughts and texts was a little confusing I thought so from now on thoughts are in italics and texts will be bolded. This entire story is unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Oh, I don't actually own Sherlock or any of the characters *sigh* oh well...**

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**I'm sick. Bring me soup? Pls?**

The text came as a bit of a shock but there it was as plain as day, Molly was asking him to bring her soup because she was sick. They hadn't been avoiding each other since he returned her things but they hadn't exactly been seeking each other out either. Well, maybe he was avoiding her a bit, it hadn't escaped him the he was sending Anderson to Barts more often than he used to. He stared at the message a second longer, he certainly never thought that she would go to him for help when she was sick, but he couldn't deny her it. He took a glance at his watch, it was just before five and he would be getting off soon so he sent a quick reply back.

**30 minutes**

He finished typing up his report and shut down his computer. This was probably the first time he had left work on time in months.

He decided to get her chicken and wild rice soup, it had always been one of his favorites when he was sick as a child. When he got to her apartment building an elderly woman was just leaving and held the door open for him. The plastic container burnt his hand as he carried it up the stairs but his other hand was full of two types of medicine and a chocolate bar. When he got to her door he realized that he didn't have a hand to knock with and after trying to shuffle things around to free one he decided on just knocking with his foot. It took a few tries and his hand was really starting to hurt but finally she opened the door for him.

"Sorry, sorry I was asleep- oh, Greg! What, what are you doing here?"

She was wearing bright blue pajama bottoms and a blue housecoat with clouds on it. Her hair was in complete disarray, as if she had had it in a bun but fell asleep on it. Her nose was a bright red and he could see tissues sticking out of her pockets.

"You texted me."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, a half hour ago, 'I'm sick, bring me soup?'."

"Oh," she exclaimed, "Sorry, I meant to send that to someone else, I must have hit your name by mistake."

"Oh," he felt his face get hot, of course she hadn't meant to send that to him, why would she? "Okay, I'll just get out of your hair then."

He went to hand over the soup but remembered too late to say that it was hot. She burnt her fingers but didn't drop the container. Setting it quickly down on a coffee table she took the rest of the things that he bought her before seeing his hand which was a very pronounced red.

"Your hand! You've burnt it."

"What? Oh, well the soup was very hot."

"Come in," she grabbed his arm before he had time to protest and pulled him inside, "Sit, I'll get something for your hand."

He obliged and took the chance to get his first real look at her apartment. The walls were an ugly pale yellow but everything else was bright colors. Her furniture was blue and there was a bright green rug thrown over the hardwood floor. Photos and awards hung on the walls, ribbons, playbills and other things were stuffed behind some of them and a small TV paused on some movie he didn't recognize hung over an old fireplace. The coffee table had a pot of tea and a mug on it next to a box of tissues, a small garbage can sat next to them overflowing with used tissues. There were two doors going off of this room besides the kitchen, he vaguely remembered that the one on the right was the bedroom. He could hear Molly fumbling around in the kitchen behind him, opening and closing drawers looking for something. She came out of the kitchen carrying a small tube of something and sat down on the couch next to him.

"Here give me your hand," when he did she squeezed a dollop of a green gel from the tube and started coating his hand with it. A coolness instantly spread over wherever she spread the gel, "You've been avoiding me," she told him, not looking up from her work.

"No I haven't, work has just been busy… and I couldn't get away from the office," he knew as he was telling her that she wouldn't believe him.

"You're a terrible liar," she told him, the faint trace of a smile of her lips, "You don't have to avoid me, i'm a big girl, I can handle it. At least stop sending Anderson, he asks stupid questions." He let out a chuckle as she finished and wiped the excess gel off his hand, "Your hand should be fine but this will help for the initial burning."

"I'm sorry," he said, admiring how adept she was at treating him.

"What for?"

"I was coming here to take care of you and now you're taking care of me."

"It's no problem," she said wiping her hands with a tissue and capping the tube, "It's nice to be able to treat someone who's still alive. Besides, you brought me soup and chocolate. It's the least that I could do."

She smiled at him then, an easy smile but not one that reached her eyes.

"Well I never could say no to someone who needed my help."

He was just about to get up and leave when she suddenly asked, "So how is your divorce going?" Her eyes got wide and she clamped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't have looked cuter, "Sorry, god sorry. I was just trying to make conversation."

"It's fine," he said settling back into the couch, "You're actually the only one who's been brave enough to ask me. It's bad. Everything is turning into a fight and I'm just about ready to tell Elaine to take it all. We're actually in counseling."

"Oh, so you two are going to try and work it out?" Was he imagining things or was there a hint of disappointment in her voice?

"No, but my lawyer thinks that it could work in my favor if I showed that I was making a clear effort to make amends or some nonsense. Honestly it's just a waste of time and money."

"So, are you still living with her?"

"No. No I found an apartment in central London. It's smaller than a matchbox and the water only runs hot before 6 am but it'll do for now."

"That sounds," she paused trying to figure out what to say next, "horrible."

"Yeah… it really is." He let out a half hearted chuckle and got off of the couch to leave, "Well, I better leave you to it then."

He hand his hand on the door handle before she called after him, "You could stay for a while, if you wanted that is."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother, I've been stuck up here alone all day, it would be nice to have some company," she patted the seat next to her and gave him a warm smile. All his resolution faded away and his hand fell from the door handle. She saw and got off the couch and headed to the kitchen, "Have you had dinner yet? I've got some leftover curry that I made a few days ago."

"No, I haven't. Curry sounds great."

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat tree besides the door. He settled down on the couch and soon Molly returned with a bowl of curry for him and a pot holder and a spoon for her soup. As soon as she opened the container a waft of steam radiated off of the soup. She gave it a quick stir and took a small spoonful to test the temperature.

"Mmm, chicken and wild rice is my favorite," she said with a smile and started to eat.

"So what are we watching?" He asked trying to hide his smile before taking a bite of his own food. The curry was the perfect balance between sweet and spicy and he wondered what else she could cook.

"Pretty Woman, it's one of my favorites."

She started the movie from the beginning, despite his protests that she didn't need to rewind it for him. She simply responded that she's seen it so many times she could recite it by heart, so re-watching twenty minutes wouldn't bother her. It didn't matter in the end because they hardly paid any attention to the TV, instead talking about anything that crossed their minds. He ended up telling her about growing up in the countryside, just outside of Aylesbury. About how he knew he wanted to be a policeman ever since the neighborhood kids and him used to play cops and robbers in the backyard. He had always been the cop. He told her about how his sister had died in a car accident when she was eighteen and he was fifteen. How that had driven him to a life of petty crime. She started to tear up as he explained how his parents threatened to kick him out of the house if he didn't shape up, so he quickly changed the subject to his days playing rugby in university. She told him about how she had always wanted to be a doctor but after her dad got diagnosed she had to change her plans to help out her mum and sister. She told him about how they hated the fact that she had given up on her dreams, she emphasized that those were their words and not hers. She explained that she hadn't given up her dream, she just found a different one to follow. She also told him about how she always felt like she didn't measure up to the rest of her family, that they were always wanting something more from her. For her to settle down, to get a better job, move closer to home. She confessed that 'had she not gone into medical she would have become a travel writer. She had gone to India once with her family just after her dad got diagnosed, seeing the Taj Mahal had been on his bucket list, and it felt like it had opened up a whole new world for her, but with loans and bills to pay off she hadn't been able to afford to go anywhere further than Wales since she graduated.

He hadn't realized how late it was getting until, while he was telling her about the time he broke his ankle trying to impress a girl who lived down the road, her head fell against the arm he had stretched out on the back of the couch. He was startled for a second until he realized that she had simply fallen asleep. He pushed a lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep, like she didn't deal with death everyday, like she hadn't fallen in love with a man who couldn't love her back, like she hadn't given up her dream to help a family that didn't appreciate her nearly enough as they should. He tried to rouse her but his initial attempts only caused her to snuggle closer to him, her arm wrapped around his waist and her head resting just over his heart. He couldn't ignore the stutter that his heart did. _This woman is going to be the ruin of me_. His second attempt, though it nearly killed him to do it, was more successful. She opened her eyes and mumbled a few words that he couldn't quite make out. He helped her to her feet and steadied her as she stumbled to her bed. She plopped down on the mattress and he pulled her duvet up to cover her. He was just about to leave her when she grabbed his hand.

"You're a really great guy Greg," she told him, sleep still clearly evident in her voice, "Any girl would be lucky to have you."

She let go of his hand and he made his way to her door. Just before he closed it he turned back to her, "Molly, when this is all over, my divorce I mean. When it's all final I'm going to ask you out on a proper date and, I hope you say yes." He didn't know if she was still awake to hear him but at least he had said it.

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up. There was a death in the family and I didn't quite heave the time or the heart to write it. That said I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, I can't decided if I like it or hate it. I always find it harder to write a chapter when I have to follow someone else's script.**

**Speaking of following scripts, I was re-watching HoB and noticed the I got my continuity screwed up. Lestrade had a tan line on his finger meaning that he was still wearing his ring when he was on vacations. So, for my sake, let's just pretend that everything jives. :)**

**For the texting in this chapter I set it up like real life texts, the received message is on the left and the sent message is on the right. At least, that's how it is on my phone so i'm assuming that's a universal thing.**

**Last thing, I realized that I have created a lot of back story for these two and was wondering if you would like to see more of that. I would write separate fics, chapter or one-shot, that would be in the same universe but take a look at each of their pasts. If you guys are interested tell me in a review or shoot me a PM.**

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It had been weeks since his divorce had made any real progress and the stares that he got at work were becoming infuriating. He had stopped actively avoiding Molly and had begun inventing excuses to go see her, sometimes to get away from the office gossip which seemed to be mostly about him, sometimes just to see her. He had been nearly out of his mind and was going to tell everyone at the Yard to bugger off and mind their own damn business when Molly had suggested a holiday. So he took some of his time and went down to Spain to visit some friends, Paul and Julia, who had moved there to be with her ailing mother years ago. It had felt odd at first, being away on his own but after the first two days he got quite used to it. Most of his time he spent wandering around the small town or the beach just outside of Malaga, or entertaining Paul and Julia's son Alvaro who loved to hear stories about Greg's different cases. He may have embellished the details a tiny bit but the eight year old didn't seem to mind much.

At night he caught up with Paul and Julia who had met their last year of university and married a year after that. The first night Paul offered his condolences about the state of Greg's marriage and said that he always knew that Elaine was a witch before Julia slapped him on the arm. He didn't mind, in fact he found it refreshing that people were telling him exactly what they thought. The next nights were filled with laughter and reminiscing. He was finally starting to feel refreshed but before he knew it his week was over and he had to go back to London. With goodbyes long enough that he almost missed his flight and a solemn promise to Alvaro that he would send him letters telling him about every one of the cases he solved he left Spain.

The flight was long but at night so he could at least sleep through most of it. He had just gathered his luggage and was heading towards the car park when his mobile started to ring. _I'm back five minutes and they're already bothering me._ He answered the call reluctantly and headed out into the cool London air.

"_Hello Detective Inspector, I trust you had a nice vacation,"_ a smooth voice said over the line, he knew it from somewhere but he couldn't quite place it.

"Sorry, who is this?"

"_Mycroft Holmes, I trust you remember who I am._"

Of course he remembered, you don't forget someone like Mycroft Holmes easily, "Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?"

"_Tell me, what do you know of Baskerville and Dartmoor?_"

"Baskerville's that top secret military base, the one where people think we have aliens or other nonsense hidden away," He finally found his car and put his bags in it, he closed the door and paused before getting in himself, suspicious that he knew where this conversation was going to lead. "Why?"

"_My brother and the good Doctor Watson have gotten themselves into trouble over that way._"

"If you want me to bail them out I'm afraid you'll have better luck," he got into the car but didn't start it yet.

"_I'm afraid that him being in jail would be much simpler all around. No, he's found himself a case and I would be indebted to the person who made sure he doesn't get himself shot, or worse._"

"Isn't that what he has John for?"

"_I'm afraid there are some things even Doctor Watson needs help with._"

"Well, I'd love to really," _no I wouldn't_, "but all my time off just got used up unfortunately. I'm afraid I'm stuck in London for a while."

"_No need to worry about that, I've already had everything arranged. I'll have my assistant send you the details._"

He tried to protest but he heard the other end of the line go dead. Apparently his holiday wasn't over after all. His phone beeped, alerting him of a new text, before he could take it away from his ear. He opened up the text to see a length of details for him.

**Sherlock is investigating the death of Henry Knights father. Murdered 20 years ago at Dewars Hollow. Legend of a 'demon hound' since. Sherlock suspects Baskerville Military Base. Hotel reservations made in your name at Cross Keys Inn. Check in 11 am. Avoid the M3. -M**

He closed the text and looked at the time 7.34, it was over three hours to Dartmoor. He started his car and pulled out of the car park, at least he had been able to sleep on the plane. His phone beeped once again and he opened the new text just as he got in line to pay for parking.

**Are u back? Did u have fun? Pls save me from Anderson. ~X(**

He grinned as he read Molly's text and sent a quick reply before he left the airport.

** I'm back, it was great. Over too soon. I have to go to Dartmoor and keep Sherlock out of trouble. I'm afraid you're stuck with Anderson for a few more days.**

It only took a few seconds before his phone beeped again.

**Dartmoor? Y's he there?**

** On a case. Got to go, 3+ hour drive ahead of me.**

**KK drive safe. I can't be responsible for the safety of Anderson should he have an accident in my lab while ur gone.**

** I'll hurry back.**

**:)**

Thanks to Mycroft's advice he got to Dartmoor just at 11 am, found the Inn just outside of the town center and parked across the street. He found a man behind the counter as soon as he walked in the door.

"Welcome to the Cross Keys Inn, how may I help you?" The man said when he saw Greg walk through the door.

"Greg Lestrade, there should be a reservation."

The man turned to the computer and clicked around a bit before addressing him, "Here we are, Lestrade. You'll be in room 8 on the second floor."

"How much? And can I get a pint?"

"Room's all paid for," the man said pouring a pint before leaving the desk to get a the key from the back room.

"Well, at least there's that," he said. He had just leaned on the counter when he heard a familiar voice accost him from outside.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

_Well at least this saves me from having to find him,_ "Nice to see you too. I'm on holiday, would you believe. Hello John," John greeted him in return and when Sherlock said nothing he decided it was safe to press on, "I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? After that Hound of Hell like on the telly?"

"I'm still waiting for and explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?"

"Told you, I'm on holiday."

"You're brown as a nut! You're clearly just back from holidays."

"Maybe I fancied another one."

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?"

"Now look..." wherever this was going he was sure it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he send down my handler to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

John spoke up before he had the chance, "That's his name!"

He gave a quick nod of appreciation as Sherlock asked if it really was.

"Yes," now he was put out, "if you'd ever have bothered to find out." _Six years the man's known me! He knows the differences between 250 types of ash and he doesn't know my bloody first name!_

They had questioned the Inn owners almost immediately but when it turned out that there was nothing to charge them with he decided to leave John and Sherlock to their own devices. He decided to go for a walk and check out the town, why let this free time go to waste? He had walked about a block when he got a new text from Molly.

** Get there OK?**

** Safe and sound.**

** Thats good. Sherlock keeping out of trouble?**

** As much as he's able.**

** :)**

**So whats this case about?**

** A demon hound supposedly killed a man 20 years ago. His son hired Sherlock to investigate after he saw the dog a few days ago.**

** Demon hound? Does Sherlock really believe that?**

** I think he thinks it's some sort of genetic experiment escaped from Baskerville.**

** Sounds like quite the adventure ur having down there. Spking of which, how was Spain?**

** It's certainly not dull. Spain was fabulous. Had a great time catching up, almost missed my flight back it was so hard to say goodbye.**

** U have to show me sometime.**

** I mean... ur photos.**

** Or I could show you it in person.**

It had been a few minutes and still no reply from Molly. His last text had been a risk, opening up a door he wasn't sure she would go down, but he was ready to move forward and he was just beginning to realize that he wanted to do that with her. He put his phone away and walked into a little shop. He walked around a bit before Molly finally replied.

** Sorry, I got called away. I'd like that. :)**

He couldn't hide his smile after he read it, he wasn't sure that he wanted to anyway.

Cleaning up the mess from this case was a little more difficult than usual. He briefed the local detective about what had been happening and filled in what he could from Sherlock's side, though the man himself had disappeared with John not long after the explosion. Henry Knight had been taken off in an ambulance, he figured it was more to check on his mental health than physical. It took nearly an hour to get everything sorted and he was allowed to go back to the inn.

Once he got back to his room he found that he couldn't sleep, every time he closed his eyes he saw that demon dog. Sherlock explained that it was just an effect of the drug and it would soon wear off but that didn't make the memories any less terrifying. It was just after 11 and he knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep so he packed up his bag and headed back to London.

She had been fast asleep when her mobile beeped, alerting her of a new text. She had just opened her eyes when it beeped again. It took a few tries to blindly find it on her bed side table and when she looked at the screen she instantly regretted it when she was blinded. She blinked a few times before trying again to read the text from Greg.

**Can I come over?**

**Sorry. I know it's late I just would rather not be alone right now.**

She looked at her clock before she responded, it was a few minutes after 2am. It had to be something serious if he was asking to come over now.

** Yeah. No prob. What's up?**

**I'll tell you when I get there.**

It wasn't 20 minutes before she heard a soft knock on her door. She opened it and Greg stood before her, He was wearing casual clothes, a nice change from the suit that she normally saw him in. He looked tired, there were bags under his eyes and a slump to his shoulders. She invited him in, he shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the back of her couch before he sat down himself.

"So what's wrong then?" she asked sitting down next to him. When he didn't respond she took his hand in hers, "Greg, tell me what happened."

He looked into her eyes and her heart broke under his gaze. He looked lost and terrified and in that moment all she could think of was a scared child. All she wanted to do was pull him into a hug and not let go but he needed to get whatever happened to him out in the air first so she refrained.

"I saw something tonight Molly."

He explained how he had gotten the call from Mycroft as soon as he got out of the airport. How he had had to go to Dartmoor to keep and eye on Sherlock and make sure he didn't get himself into too much trouble. How the restaurant owners were keeping a dog to scare visitors and get more tourists it. How they had said that they had killed it because it was out of control but had set it loose instead, not having the heart to put the poor beast down. He explained how Sherlock suspected that their tea had been drugged but that he hadn't had any and had still seen the hound. How they had saved Henry Knight's life and discovered his father's true killer. How the dog had attacked them but because of the drugs all he saw was a giant demon. He explained how it looked nearly the size of a horse, skin and bones and huge teeth. How it had glowed and its horrible red eyes looked at him like a lion looks at its prey. How it leapt at them and he and John had had to kill it. Then he said how the scientist behind it all had run into a minefield and been blown up.

"Greg..."

"Now when I close my eyes all I can see when I try to sleep are those eyes, I know it was all just the drugs but..."

She didn't know what to say to him so she took his hand and held it for a while. She looked at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning, _good thing I'm working the night shift tomorrow._ Then she got an idea how to help him she stood up and pulled on his hand.

"Come on," he was slow to respond but she figured that it was just because he was so tired.

"What?"

Finally he stood and she led him to her bedroom. She pulled out a pair of her biggest sweatpants, a black pair that had St. Bartholomew's printed in white lettering down one leg, and handed them to him, "Put those on," he went into her bathroom and changed coming out in the sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The pants were a little tight on him but the whole ensemble was not unpleasant, he just gave her a look of confusion.

"I figured that if you woke up then you would see me next to you and know that it was just a dream, and if that doesn't make you feel better than you can wake me up and tell me about it. I find that things never seems as scary when you have someone to help you face them," she crawled into the bed and he followed.

"Thank you Molly. I don't deserve someone like you."

"Of course you do Greg, you deserve great things, don't ever think any different."

"Okay."

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**So, I'm just gonna say here and now that Greg sleeps through the night and that when they wake up they're totally wrapped in each others arms.**


End file.
